Player
by talkingbeatles
Summary: A young man working off Route 9 in Kalos has a pretty steady existence. He's got a single, loyal pokemon, a relatively steady job, little to no responsibility, and a subtle celebrity status due to family ties. But when a mysterious passing trainer appears, things start getting wiggy. Gang members, rare pokemon, shenanigans, etcetera. Life is about to get decidedly unsteady.


He saw her coming around the bend on a light-neon blue bike, accelerating into the turn. She started to slow once she noticed his stand. It was a trailer, unhitched with a weathered metal sign above reading 'Glittering Orre.' Cute, she thought. A small, poorly built pond was in front of the trailer with a Wooper splashing about in it, playing in the shallow, muddy water. A boy leaned out of the trailer, tossing treats to the Wooper. He was squinting into the sun as the girl squeezed her brakes and stopped on the bike trail. She threw a quick look behind her to make sure she wasn't blocking any incoming traffic. The boy from the trailer waved. And she waved back, hopping off her bike and wheeling it off the trail towards some bike racks and benches.

It was hot, in the mid nineties at least, and even though she wasn't familair with this stretch of Route 9, she figured the Glittering Cave was still at least five miles away. On a bike, no big deal; but she could use a soda and she wanted to take a picture of the Wooper. It was the first she had ever seen one in real life. They didn't live in Kalos, she thought. She peered over the bridge of her aviators as she approached, getting a good, untinted glimpse of the rare pokemon.

The girl didn't even bother to lock her bike up. It was midday and there wasn't a cloud in the sky, so no one else was riding on the trail. He had seen a Rhyhorn or two run by in the past hour, but that was it. Only hardcore racers would be training in this heat.

"It's hot today, huh?" she said, strolling up, flipping her backpack to her front.

"Yeah. Where's the breeze at?"

She had a black backpack, with a lightning-styled baby blue trim and was wearing a one piece, black and blue biker suit, skin-tight. He hair was long and yellow, and tied into a high, sweaty ponytail. Her face was glistening; she had obviously been riding all day. She wasn't tired.

The girl dug around in her backpack for a wallet, and the boy noticed six pokeball pouches ringing the pack. She was a trainer.

"You headed to the cave?" the boy asked. Obviously she was. Route 9 didn't lead anywhere else interesting. She just nodded.

"Hey," she had fished out her wallet and was browsing the menu on the side of the trailer, "do you mind if I get some pictures of your Wooper."

"Yeah," the boy laughed. "Circus is more of a draw than this shit," he jabbed a thumb behind him, pointing at the various imported goods he was selling.

"You named him 'Circus?' She turned and pulled out her Pokedex. It was a new model, the boy could tell.

"Yeah," he chuckled again. "I got him back when he was a lil woop, and I was like 12. A family friend from Orre..."

"That's far away." She snapped a few shots, and it looked like Circus even tried to vogue a little.

"...fuck yeah it is. A friend from Orre gave him to me as a birthday present. He's also the one that supplies me with this stuff." He motioned to the back of the trailer again. "Yeah, I mean, it's not much. Novelty things, y'know? Shirts, fanny packs, local Orre snaks and drinks and shit."

"It's a living, yeah?" She paused for a second, then: "what's your name?"

The kid rolled his eyes and smirked. Either he got this question a lot or he just resented answering. Maybe both.

"It's just... you look familar..." She glanced at the Wooper and then back to the kid.

"Player..."

"Oh, shit." She covered her mouth. She was grinning like a fool. "You're Player Dorsett."

"Yeah..."

The girl shook her head. She took off her glasses and stared at Player. "You're the son of Fish Dorsett, the Rhyhorn Rocket."

"...yeah..."

"I read that retrospect 'Pokemon Racer' did on your dad a few months back. I remember them interviewing you, and you name dropped your little outfit you've got here." She glanced around-the trailer, bike racks, benches, and the Wooper play-pond- now with a sort of reverence. "You're dad is-"

"Yeah." He cut her off. "The dude named me 'Player.' He's a fantastic father. Great racer." There was a painful pause where the girl just rolled and unrolled a bill, looking off to the side at Circus. He was still blissfully messing about in the mud. "Sorry. I've lived here my whole life. Rhyhorn racing is kind of a big thing to these people." He rolled his eyes. "I'm over it."

"Oh, sure, sure," she said nodding, still looking at Circus. "I mean, all these guys running ground types probably hate fighting your Wooper, though." She looked at Player.

"Oh, yeah, no. I mean, I don't really fight or anything. I mean, I'm no trainer. Circus is kind of too chill to be a fighter." He tossed a Tentacool-shaped treat out into the pond, but Circus was oblivious to it; the treat hit the water with a plop and promptly sank.

"Oh."

"Yeah, what about you? You look hardcore." Player stared at her face for a couple of seconds. Even with the aviators covering most of her face, he could tell she was gorgeous. Annoyingly so, he wagered.

"Um, could I get an orange one?"

"Oh, yeah," Player snapped out of his staring.

"But, yeah. I'm a trainer. I'm headed to the cave, looking for an Onix."

"Orange-tea Teddiursa or ParaPumpkin?"

"Huh-?"

"The flav-"

"Right, yeah the Teddiursa one. You sell Pumpkin soda?"

"Yeah. It's good," Player beamed at her. He loved it when you got into a conversation and things got snappy. People talking over one another.

"But yeah," they traded cash and beverage, "I am a trainer. Been doing it since I was a kid. Born into it, y'know? My dad wanted to be a gym leader when he was little. Wanted to get up to league level and everything."

"Yeah, you seem hardcore, like I said."

"Well," she dug a lighter out of backpack and popped off her soda's bottle cap.

"It's a twist-off," Player said, and after a brief pause, "hey, what's your name?"

The girl didn't answer right away. Instead she stowed the lighter and took a big swig of her newly purchased beverage. She gulped down half the bottle, then threw up two fingers, knuckles pointed away from her, and burped. She started back towards her bike.

Player gave a confused shrug, really just for himself since the girl had her back to him. "Hey, what's your name?" he asked again, yelling at her as she walked away. Boy, was he a moron.

The girl turned back just for a second. Just long enough for,

"Hardcore, remember?" And she pointed to herself finished her drink, and as she finished walking towards the bike racks she tossed her bottle into a trash can, some 30 feet away. The heavy glass banged into the the thin metal of the can, tipping it over after impact. A few small scraps of paper managed to escape.

As the mystery bike girl mounted and rode off, Player stared at her. Circus waddled up, tracking mud on the green grass surrounding the trailer.

"That better not actually be her fucking name," he murmured under his breath.

Circus just stared up at him and repeated his own name a few times and then waddled back to his pond, whipping his stubby little tail as he went.


End file.
